


Casualty List

by romanticalgirl



Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-14
Updated: 2013-04-14
Packaged: 2017-12-08 11:58:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/761061
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romanticalgirl/pseuds/romanticalgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Much love to <a href="http://alethialia.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://alethialia.livejournal.com/"><b>alethialia</b></a> for the beta. For <a href="http://nightanddaze.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://nightanddaze.livejournal.com/"><b>nightanddaze</b></a> who has been having a rough time, via <a href="http://amberlynne.livejournal.com/profile"><img class="i-ljuser-userhead"/></a><a class="i-ljuser-username" href="http://amberlynne.livejournal.com/"></a><b>amberlynne</b>.</p><p>Originally posted 10-2-11</p>
    </blockquote>





	Casualty List

**Author's Note:**

> Much love to [](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/profile)[**alethialia**](http://alethialia.livejournal.com/) for the beta. For [](http://nightanddaze.livejournal.com/profile)[**nightanddaze**](http://nightanddaze.livejournal.com/) who has been having a rough time, via [](http://amberlynne.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://amberlynne.livejournal.com/)**amberlynne**.
> 
> Originally posted 10-2-11

Nate gets the news from Tom, and even then there’s nothing confirmed. Rumors and reports of American casualties where no Americans should be. That means SEALs or Recon, and Nate knows that SEALs are thin on the ground these days. Brad’s supposed to be safely tucked away in a truck being a gunny, but what Brad’s supposed to do and what Brad does aren’t always the same thing.

What’s worse is that Nate’s not sure, if the news is true, how old it is, which means he could be days behind the event. It’s not actually unexpected, but maddening nonetheless that none of his sources can tell him anything, no matter how hard he presses. He stays in the office too late, hoping for news, scouring the Internet and putting in long distance calls to contacts he’s not supposed to have.

Eventually he goes home, opening a beer and drinking half of it in a few rushed swallows. He has a headache from the base of his skull to the temple, throbbing loudly over the rushed beat of his heart. He sets the beer down unfinished and rubs his cold hand over the back of his neck. A dog barks in the distance, and Nate shakes his head, coming out of his worried stupor. Something in the house feels wrong, and a faint hum from the bedroom catches his attention. He grabs one of his golf clubs out of the front closet and heads toward the back bedroom, stopping dead in the doorway.

It’s bad lighting, the lampshade giving everything an orangish glow, but there’s a strange gauntness to Brad’s features, a sallowness to his skin underneath his tan. The bandage on his shoulder stands out starkly against the russet sheets, white gone pink with blood, the edges tinged with black. The hum comes from a small fan in the corner that Nate only turns on at night in the summer.

It’s the middle of winter and Brad’s burning up. That’s the first thing Nate notices when he moves over to the bed and touches him. The second is that Brad doesn’t wake up immediately, which means he’s nowhere near close to being himself. Normally Nate wouldn’t have made it past the doorway, much less to the bed. Any other time, Nate would be giving Brad shit, but right now, all Nate can manage to do is _breathe_ again.

“You’re not dead.”

Brad opens his eyes slowly then blinks, shifting slightly and wincing as he puts strain on his shoulder. “That’s the rumor.”

“No, that’s not the rumor.” He sits on the edge of the mattress on the opposite side from where Brad’s lying, reaching out to touch the gauze tape. “How bad?”

“One dead, five wounded.”

“Shit.”

“Happens.” Brad uses his good arm to lever himself into a sitting position. “You have shitty security.”

“I gave you a key.”

“Yeah, but the doorman didn’t even look at me sideways. You in the habit of bringing men back here?”

“Yes. Not a day goes by that I don’t have some strapping blond Viking coming to visit me.” He moves his hand up to Brad’s throat. “Are you even supposed to be here?”

“Bethesda, but there’s a lot of Squids there, so I thought I’d come see you.”

“And by Squids, you mean the medical staff that is supposed to be tending to you.”

“It’s not my fault that they’re all sailors.” Brad reaches back and fixes the pillow behind him, leaning back with a relieved sigh. “You look like I’m dying. I’m not dying.”

“Well, I’ve been hearing reports that contain an amazing lack of information, even for our government.” He manages a smirk, but it’s offset by the relief at seeing Brad. “It’s enough to drive someone crazy.”

“You’re in politics. You already _are_ crazy.”

Nate laughs roughly and leans in, kissing Brad. There’s nothing sweet about it, nothing like relief. It’s anger and worry and fear and when Brad opens his mouth, Nate moans and moves in closer. His hand slides to the back of Brad’s neck, holding him still as Nate crawls the short distance between them and straddles Brad’s thighs. “Fuck you, you stupid fucking jarhead.” He kisses him again, deeper, hungrier, and all the rest of the emotions Nate’s been struggling to keep in check break loose, flooding through him.

Brad’s hand curves into the small of Nate’s back and he holds him close, letting Nate guide the kiss. He makes a low noise in his throat and Nate grinds down on him in response. “Hey. Hey, I’m okay.”

“You got _shot_.”

“Only a little bit.”

Nate kisses him again, trying not to laugh against his mouth. Brad rubs Nate’s spine slowly, up and down like he’s keeping time. “I’m going to kick your ass.”

“Good to know that the officer’s credo of going after a man when he’s down lives on.” Brad shakes his head, his face hangdog with sadness. “And I had hopes for you, Nate.”

Nate’s breath catches at his name, and he kisses Brad again, pinning him to the headboard. “You stupid _fuck_.”

“Just a flesh wound. I’ll be healed up and back kicking ass, taking names, and making all the girls swoon in no time.”

“Well, when you put it that way...” Nate laughs and shakes his head, pulling back to look Brad in the eye. “How long?”

“Officially, three weeks. Unofficially, it depends on when they need my boots back on the ground.” The fingers of his hand trace Nate’s jaw, and Nate can hear the rasp of his five o’clock shadow. “Concentrate on the new, isn’t that what you’re always saying? Or am I getting you confused with some other asshole civilian?”

“Good men think ahead.”

Brad grins. “Good men aren’t supposed to get shot, so let’s pretend that I’m not a good man tonight and just…do _this_ , okay?”

“And what exactly is _this_?” Nate raises an eyebrow and runs his fingers over Brad’s good shoulder, down to his collarbone, over his nipple, his abdomen. “Exactly?”

“Another anatomy lesson?” Brad shakes his head, but Nate still sees his breath catch when Nate’s hand grazes his cock. “I thought we had this sorted.”

“I’m a little unclear on how you think _that_ wouldn’t require a good man.” Nate eases back with a wicked smile as he tugs the sheets away, leaving Brad naked and exposed. “But we’ll call this a refresher course.” He licks his lips and reaches for Brad’s cock, stroking it slowly, smiling as it fills out in his grip. “We’re going to have to improvise until you’ve got use of your shoulder back.”

“That’s all right.” Brad’s voice is low and hungry as Nate leans in, his tongue tracing across the head of Brad’s dick. “Marines make do.”  



End file.
